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witticasterIn the end, they set him up in the bedroom next door to them; Archie wasn't willing to keep their privacy and risk the possibility of Sebastian taking a more serious fall. After all, they hadn't planned to get up to anything that night, and they certainly wouldn't have after waking up to Sebastian screaming, even if they had sent him back up to the tower.)
It had not occurred to Archie that the boy might be frightened alone, not when William regarded the attic room with such fond memories of youth. Now, it seemed a fatal mistake to send a boy of eight up to sleep alone in such a space, and he had no clue how to make amends. After Sebastian had slid out of his grasp and curled in on himself, Archie was not about to try kissing him good night, and he couldn't manage to force the words I'm sorry further than the top of his throat.
"Good night," he said to the boy, tucked in with a single sheet, for it was much too warm to consider more than that.
Sebastian stared up at him, his eyes unnaturally large in his tearstained face. The boy was thin, no denying that--he didn't have the lean, hungry look of a starving cat, but the way he demolished two plates of steak and mashed potatoes as dinner was telling enough. He ate steadily, looking up to answer questions, and didn't say much otherwise. It wasn't identical to the way Archie so often found himself putting away food, nearly mechanical in his movements, but it was closer than he'd ever wanted to see a boy that age attack his dinner.
Archie was about to turn away, for Sebastian was silent as he considered him, but then, in a very small voice came the reply, "Good night."
Forcing his mouth into a smile, he nodded and went back to his bedroom, shutting Sebastian's door behind him.
William was already in bed again, but he hadn't flopped back into sleep, and for that, Archie was glad. Snuffing the light of the oil lamp, Archie crawled into bed and curled up close to William, resting his head on William's collarbone. Beneath his cheek, he could feel William letting go a sigh-like breath before his arms came tentatively around Archie.
"I think he'll be all right," Archie found himself saying, staring at William's bicep. "Just had a scare."
William made a noise of agreement and buried his face in Archie's hair; he could hear William taking a deep breath, felt his chest expand. Probably he ought to say something further, especially now--now that William, upon following him out, watching him cradle Sebastian in his arms as though he were his own son, kissing him and comforting him and feeling his ribcage splintering into pieces and driving fragments of bone into everything it existed to protect.
That night, that first night, there were certain truths he could not face for his own self, let alone for the sake of the man whose breath warmed his scalp as they lay there in the darkness. What mattered, he told himself, was that Sebastian was safely asleep--and soon William would be, too--and he himself could clear his thoughts of anything but the sound of the crickets outside until his body was so exhausted that his mind couldn't help but follow.
He would hoe the garden the next day, he told himself, trying to take comfort in the steady beat of William's heart. He would work himself so hard that he wouldn't have to make an effort to fall asleep the next night, and perhaps that would begin to make penance for his transgressions.
It had not occurred to Archie that the boy might be frightened alone, not when William regarded the attic room with such fond memories of youth. Now, it seemed a fatal mistake to send a boy of eight up to sleep alone in such a space, and he had no clue how to make amends. After Sebastian had slid out of his grasp and curled in on himself, Archie was not about to try kissing him good night, and he couldn't manage to force the words I'm sorry further than the top of his throat.
"Good night," he said to the boy, tucked in with a single sheet, for it was much too warm to consider more than that.
Sebastian stared up at him, his eyes unnaturally large in his tearstained face. The boy was thin, no denying that--he didn't have the lean, hungry look of a starving cat, but the way he demolished two plates of steak and mashed potatoes as dinner was telling enough. He ate steadily, looking up to answer questions, and didn't say much otherwise. It wasn't identical to the way Archie so often found himself putting away food, nearly mechanical in his movements, but it was closer than he'd ever wanted to see a boy that age attack his dinner.
Archie was about to turn away, for Sebastian was silent as he considered him, but then, in a very small voice came the reply, "Good night."
Forcing his mouth into a smile, he nodded and went back to his bedroom, shutting Sebastian's door behind him.
William was already in bed again, but he hadn't flopped back into sleep, and for that, Archie was glad. Snuffing the light of the oil lamp, Archie crawled into bed and curled up close to William, resting his head on William's collarbone. Beneath his cheek, he could feel William letting go a sigh-like breath before his arms came tentatively around Archie.
"I think he'll be all right," Archie found himself saying, staring at William's bicep. "Just had a scare."
William made a noise of agreement and buried his face in Archie's hair; he could hear William taking a deep breath, felt his chest expand. Probably he ought to say something further, especially now--now that William, upon following him out, watching him cradle Sebastian in his arms as though he were his own son, kissing him and comforting him and feeling his ribcage splintering into pieces and driving fragments of bone into everything it existed to protect.
That night, that first night, there were certain truths he could not face for his own self, let alone for the sake of the man whose breath warmed his scalp as they lay there in the darkness. What mattered, he told himself, was that Sebastian was safely asleep--and soon William would be, too--and he himself could clear his thoughts of anything but the sound of the crickets outside until his body was so exhausted that his mind couldn't help but follow.
He would hoe the garden the next day, he told himself, trying to take comfort in the steady beat of William's heart. He would work himself so hard that he wouldn't have to make an effort to fall asleep the next night, and perhaps that would begin to make penance for his transgressions.